


The Secrets Broken Men Keep

by summoner_yuna_of_besaid



Series: Best Destinies [7]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Miri - Freeform, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoner_yuna_of_besaid/pseuds/summoner_yuna_of_besaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim, Spock, and Leonard have stopped speaking since various misunderstandings drove a wedge between the three.  </p>
<p>Now, confronted with shades of their pasts, they will be forced to realize they cannot continue as they are if they want to survive.  </p>
<p>Set during and after the episode "Miri".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secrets Broken Men Keep

The golden trio has all but fallen apart. 

The whole ship can tell. The doctor is more volatile and irritable than he has ever been; the science officer, even more rigidly logical and distant than before; and the Captain stays aloft upon his chair, eyes wandering the skies when his duties don’t call, vanishing into his room at shift’s end.

It’s the focus of all gossip, of the concerned mutterings of other officers, of curiosity and fear. Something’s got to give, and everyone is waiting for the fuse to blow, for something to explode. For what seems like ages, the three continue to toe the lines around each other, their fellow officers watching like pedestrians staring in horror at the inevitable car crash they cannot stop.

It goes on like this… until Miri.

\------------------------------------

 

They stand upon a planet of children, and McCoy thinks of Joanna.

He has not heard from his daughter since before her last birthday, when he’d been able to share a quick vid conference with her, cut painfully short by the sharp tenor of his wife’s voice, calling his Jo to open presents. The girl had grown a foot if she’d grown at all, her eyes darkening to a warm brown like her mother’s, and each smile upon her face had been the sun lighting up the world. That moment had been crumbs for a starving man.

Bones watches Spock and Jim talking to the girl, Miri, and he tries to listen, but he cannot. Miri’s nervous posture, her trembling limbs, dark eyes clouded by concern. Joanna would be a little younger than Miri, but is perhaps just as tall. 

It’s been months since he, Jim, or Spock really spoke on any decent level – even his relationship with the Vulcan have deteriorated, and that relationship hasn’t had far to fall. They aren’t selfish or foolish enough to let it interfere with their work, after all, but Bones can tell the difference. Jim never comes to visit in his office or the Med Bay anymore, and Spock’s retorts lack the sharp, almost playful wit they once had. Watching the two of them talk to Miri, still standing almost shoulder to shoulder but not anywhere as close as they once had, Leonard feels the dark stirrings of agony beneath his breast.

Bones regrets that it’s his fault this has happened, but damned if he knows how to fix it.

\-------------------------------------

 

They stand upon a planet of desolation, and Jim thinks of Tarsus.

It’s hard not to notice the similarities: the children, forced to care for themselves in a world decimated by hardship; the fear of adult figures; the descent into Lord of the Flies-esque society. He recognizes it all, in his own handiwork, in the weeks and months of scraping by survival on that godforsaken rock. Years ago it would’ve been him shouting about onlies and grups.

No one knows about Tarsus, not even Bones, and he fights to keep the knowledge from his face. It’s hard. There have been missions, before, which have triggered flashbacks, but few have been quite so similar to his past, and none had ever snuck up on him so suddenly. This mission is nothing like he thought it would be, and so he came mentally unprepared.

But Jim Kirk is nothing if he isn’t light on his feet, and he rolls with the punches. After all the heartache and indecision of the last few months, he can hardly allow his baggage to clog up the pipes further. Bones is clearly still upset by his feelings being revealed, and the fact that they haven’t talked about it is Jim’s fault; and Spock is still distraught, in his own Vulcan way, over the personal discoveries he made in Jim’s mind… again, his fault. He’s not going to unload further upon his friends.

Miri is falling to pieces, and in the shadows in her eyes Kirk sees the children of Tarsus, sees his own reflection. He gravitates to her.

“She’s taking a liking to you, Captain,” Rand tells him, and he feels disapproving glares of his fellow crewmen on his back.

Let them think what they want; his reputation is bad enough, what’s one more stain, compared to comforting a suffering girl, one survivor to another.

\-----------------------------------

 

They stand upon a planet in quarantine, and Spock thinks of his heritage.

The doctor has already commented, many times, that the disease does not want his “green blood”; that he is lucky not to be counting down to the end with them. It would be illogical to in any way desire a disease that, without the certainty of a viable vaccine, guarantees his death, but in this situation, Spock finds his logic strained.

The Captain, the doctor, the other officers, all will succumb to the disease if an answer is not found in time, and Spock alone is allowed to escape unscathed. It is just another reminder that he is not one of them – that he is the outsider.

Working feverishly, Spock fights for an answer. He knows logically that, between his own expertise and the experience of Doctor McCoy, an answer will be found. It is only a question of whether it will be found in time.

It is only in being consumed by the science and the discovery that Spock manages to truly repress his fear, a burning sensation that he struggles with every time he considers that failure means the end of Leonard McCoy and James T. Kirk. That is not an option he could ever consider.

They will live, of that he is certain. Once they are safe, they will eventually overcome their illogical human foibles, realize they both share an attraction, and become mates. Jim may have some of that attraction for Spock as well, but his association with the doctor has existed for much longer, and thus so has his feelings. Both being human, they match much more suitably in the social and cultural arenas, and have many years of friendship upon which to base their future developments. 

It is only logical that such a thing occur – and Spock, as a Vulcan, feels nothing when he considers it, for whatever feelings might try rising to the surface are quickly shoved deep down beneath that scientific mind, which allows him to shove aside personal pain and focus upon saving the lives of the people who matter most to him.

\-----------------------------------------

Somehow, they survive.

They spend days locked in the same room together, forced into isolation together after months avoiding each other. The issues which pushed them apart are not resolved – the mission, saving their own skins, helping the children comes before anything else.

On that planet, they fell into dark places: almost fell to pieces themselves, and it quickly became clear to all that their relationship, as it was, could progress that way no further.

It became clearest of all, of course, to the most logical one on the ship.

\-----------------------------------------

 

Jim enters the conference room with his head hung low, stress and tension radiating up his spine, wishing he’d thought to take a nap before answering the call to duty. Then again, perhaps succumbing to sleep only for so long and being forced to rise again so quickly would only hurt him in the long run.

The mission had been hard – really hard – but they all survived, miraculously, and it’s time to move on to the next one. But first, something has to be done about the… well… the thing between himself, Bones, and Spock.

Jim’s not an idiot. He’d like to say they acted professionally down there, but he knows they’re only human (or Vulcan), and they can’t lock their feelings away and focus completely on the mission, particularly when said mission includes a disease that compromises the mind. 

That last mission had not been pretty. They’d been at each other’s throats half the time, and throwing themselves headlong into stupidly dangerous situations the other half. Spock was, per usual, the only one with his head on right, and even he had fallen to throwing barbs much sharper than his usual verbal jousts with Bones.

The isolation, the death hanging over their heads, the issue with the children had gotten to them all, but especially to the three commanding officers, what with the tension that had already existed between them. So when Jim gets a cryptic message from Spock about meeting to discuss mission parameters, he doesn’t question it. He knows what it’s about, and considers it long overdue.

That’s not to say he’s not terrified. Inside he’s practically shaking. But he’s survived worse than this… right?

\------------------------------------------------

 

McCoy gets the summons just as he’s cracking open a bottle of brandy, and he’s half tempted to ignore it. But after a moment’s hesitation, he curses and sets the drink aside. If he doesn’t show, they’ll just come looking for him, and if he’s started drinking by then that won’t end pretty.

He knows he screwed up. In his defense, his mind was addled when he stabbed himself with a potentially lethal experimental cure, and had been stuck in a very stressful environment for the duration of the mission (longer than that, if he was truthful). But he’s pretty sure they won’t let him get away with that.

Besides, he’s got his own bones to pick about Jim running around chasing down violent gangs of teenagers on his own, and getting pummeled doing it. Granted it could’ve been much worse, but he still seethes when he thinks that Jim ran off not once, but twice on his own after the onlies.

The whole thing is screwed up, has been for a while, and Leonard is half tempted to start drinking now anyway, just to make the meeting doable. But he leaves without taking a sip, forces himself to the conference room, and enters to find Jim and Spock already standing in the room, looking as tense and anxious as he feels.

\------------------------------------------------

 

Spock observes the doctor entering the room, and prepares himself to speak. For 3.4 seconds, he hesitates, realizing that this is the moment he has honestly dreaded for some time, in a very illogical and shameful fashion, that he will barely admit to himself. No amount of meditation or exercise has expunged the emotion, and now he stands before these two with that weakness pounding in his breast, unsure of how to begin.

“Well… here we are.” Jim begins with a sigh, a halfhearted smile upon his face, as he looks from one man to the other. “I suppose this an intervention?”

Spock realizes, after a moment, that the Captain is referring to a human practice of intervening in an associate’s, friends, or family member’s life if it is believed said person is acting in a self-destructive manner. He finds the comparison apt. 

“It has come to my attention that for the past four point seven months, our interactions have decreased in occurrence and positive outcome, leading to a decrease in our personal and overall performance in our duties.”

“You mean we’re disagreeing and it’s getting in the way of our jobs.” The doctor snorts. “Trust a Vulcan to take half an hour to say what a few words will do.”

“Bones.”

Spock realizes that McCoy’s comment is not the same as his usual remarks; it lacks the strength, the emotionalism it usually has. It is, as humans would say, “deadpan”, and out of character for him. 

“That is what I said, Doctor.” Spock moves his arms behind his back. “Since the occurrence of the Captain’s split personality, relations between yourself and Jim have weakened dramatically. It is my hypothesis that said weakness has led to a lowering of ship performance, particularly on our last mission.”

“I came to the same conclusion.” Jim, hands gripping the chair in front of him, nods and lowers his gaze. Bones harrumphs across from him, crossing his arms in a violent fashion.

“So, we’re arguing. It happens to humans sometimes.” McCoy says the comment to Spock, but Jim answers.

“That’s just it, Bones.” He says. “I don’t even know what we’re arguing about.” He stands up, moving around the edge of the table to come closer to the doctor. “It’s like a wall sprang up between us overnight – between all three of us.”

“I will accept partial responsibility for the disintegration of our working relationship.”

“I’ll be. Never thought I’d live to see Spock talk about relationships.”

“And what about you, Bones?” Jim asks, crossing his own arms. “You want to talk about relationships? As in, why yours and mine suddenly soured?”

Spock knows that Jim knows why the doctor began pulling away – what he cannot deduce, is why Jim is not letting it be known. It could be Spock’s presence, but he is already involved in their secret. There seems to be no logical reason why Jim would not share his knowledge of Leonard’s feelings for him, and Jim’s in return. The sharing of this observation would surely go a long way to repairing their relationship.

The doctor sighs, a hand passing over his face. “Look, Jim, I…” He sighs again. “It’s just been a tough time, recently. I’ve been dealing with some things… dealing badly… and I needed some time alone. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it.”

Jim nods, accepting. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to reach out to you about it more.”

“Not your fault.” McCoy replies. “I wasn’t making myself easy to reach.”

“For my part…” Spock takes a step forward. “I do not wish our… relationship… to continue in the fashion it has these few months. I find my progress in both my Starfleet assignments and personal projects has stagnated since we three have ceased to function as a team.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you work better when you have us around?” Jim smiles and Spock ignores his heart as it attempts to increase in beating. His control flounders only for a moment.

“Affirmative, Captain.”

“Well…” The doctor’s tone is softening, losing the angry, hurt growl it has had in the last few weeks. “We can’t have that, can we?” The humans share a glance, and a laugh, and Spock stands carefully still, as if afraid any movement might jar this weak peace they’ve obtained.

Spock knows that the roots of their problems have not been addressed in any fashion. They still carry their secrets: the doctor believes Jim is none the wiser about his romantic attachment; Jim is concealing the fact that he knows of said attachment, and reciprocates it; and Spock himself is concealing from all, even himself, his fervent desire for both humans, which he knows will never be realized.

“Promise me you’ll never use yourself as a guinea pig again.” Kirk says to McCoy as they head for the door, Spock trailing behind.

“Only if you promise not to jump headfirst without looking again.”

“The likelihood of such a promise being kept is less than –“

“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” Jim interrupts. “But I don’t think we need statistics on that.”

“For once, I think I’d like to hear Mr. Spock rattle out some numbers,” Leonard retorts. Both humans are glancing back at him, some of that inscrutable human fondness in their eyes, as they wait for him to speak.

Spock notes the way Leonard leans into the Captain, how Jim instinctively raises his arm to run along the doctor’s lower back, how their heads turns as one as if they complement each other. He knows their union is only a matter of time, that they are well suited to one another and soon will come to realize it. 

He is Vulcan. Romantic dalliances are of no use to him. This strange human… friendship… these two feel for him, is more than adequate. Or, he will secretly admit to no one safe himself; it will simply have to do.


End file.
